Who's the Hero Now?
by winter machine
Summary: Addek fluff, by request, as a writing challenge. In this one: Addison and Derek on vacation with their child. If you like the McMarriage, check it out and let me know if you think I can handle the happy stuff.


**Author's Note:** Fluff ahead. I wanted to challenge my angst-loving self and asked readers of _The Climbing Way_ , my angsty Addek saga, to prompt Addek fluff if they were in the mood. This story was prompted by an anonymous guest reviewer, who requested "something where they go on a cute family vacation, just them and their child." My plan right now is to use this story for various unconnected fluff prompts, so if there's a happy Addek story you've been wanting to read, here's your chance! Prompt anything: song lyric, episode filler, or idea. Guest whose name I don't know, I hope you like this story - thanks for inspiring it, and I hope you will let me know what you think!

 _Who's the Hero Now?_

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?"

"Because that's not how surprises work." Derek signals and changes lanes.

"Because you think I'm going to hate it," she corrects him.

"I don't think you're going to hate it. I think you're going to love it. In fact, I _know_ you're going to love it."

"Remember the deal." Addison adjusts her sunglasses, watching the parkway disappear under the wheels. "The spot you pick has to meet all our requirements, otherwise you forfeit your next slot."

"I remember, and it does. And _you_ remember," he rests a hand on her thigh, "the rest of the deal. No working."

"No working on vacation!" Christa pipes up from the backseat. It's the Shepherd family crest and, really, they need it. Two busy surgeons and one surprisingly busy grade-schooler means vacations are sacred.

Sacrosanct.

And surgery-free.

"No working on vacation," Addison agrees.

Emergencies _do_ come up, of course. Which is how the bet began.

"First one to work on vacation has to go wherever the other one wants – _no_ requirements, no choosing order, _wherever,_ " she reminds her husband now.

"Oh, I know," he says cheerfully. "I'm not worried."

"I wish I could say the same thing." Addison slinks down in her seat. Derek's vacation choices tend to be – wilderness related. There was that learn-to-fish hotel, and the ranch in Montana where Christa thankfully caught chicken box and Addison had an excuse not to learn how to rope a steer, whatever that meant.

"Don't sulk," Derek finds her hand and weaves their fingers together. "You're going to love this one, I promise."

She's too charitable to point out that _he_ sulks too; he was horrifically unappreciative of the spa she picked out last time. There was an outdoor treatment room, which should totally count as nature.

"Want me to drive?" she asks an hour and a half in, and he grins at her.

"Nice try."

She makes a face at him, but there's no traffic and the steady clip of the car and Christa's peaceful breathing from the backseat – she passed out half an hour ago – lull her into sleep too.

"Addie." She wakes up to his lips near her ear. "We're here."

"Wha – I fell asleep?"

"An hour ago." He smiles at her. "Ready?"

She decides it would be impolite to answer that question.

Instead, she pushes open the car door and steps into blinding sunshine. She stretches her stiff legs as Christa bounds out of the backseat.

"A farm!" their daughter cries happily.

"A farm?" Addison turns to Derek, realization and horror dawning at the same time. "A _farm_?"

Sure enough, _Jack's Family Farm_ is carved into the rustic wooden board that serves as a welcome sign. Up ahead, the path divides into a large wood-framed main building and several smaller, log-cabin outer buildings. The grass is a brilliant green, a happily panting chocolate lab has already come up to the car to greet them, and juging by the smell there are animals here…

…a lot of animals.

Addison wrinkles her nose. "How exactly does this meet _all_ our requirements?"

"Outdoors in nature for me … animals for Chris … and for you…"

She raises her eyebrows …

"It's luxurious. Faux-rustic, Addie. Not rustic, _faux_ -rustic. That's a huge sacrifice! Sure, it's a log cabin, but the linens are frette."

She rubs the sheets between two fingers once they've checked in, and nods approvingly. She's not ready to give in quite yet, but once she entered the cabin and saw the sun streaming through large windows, gorgeous stripped pine floors and serene white curtains, she mellowed a bit. It's bigger than it looks inside, a large living area with simple, comfortable furniture, including an enormous farmer's table, a good sized room for Christa, and a massive room for the two of them with an oversized garden tub overlooking endless green fields.

"Well?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Well," she admits, "It's pretty decent."

Christa is bouncing on her tiptoes. "Can we go see the baby animals now? You can feed them and everything." She holds out a canvas-bound guidebook. "And you can ride horses and you can feed baby lambs with bottles." She sighs with ecstasy.

Their daughter has been an animal lover since the first moment she could express preferences, and started begging for a pet not long after that. After convincing her that it wasn't fair to keep a dog in the city, she changed her tune to ask for a cat. They told her it was a big responsibility, and started her on a goldfish. Christa proved she was as stubborn as both her parents, taking impeccable care of Goldie, changing her water frequently, and reading to her from _National Geographic for Kids._ A year later, when Goldie, who had outlived all predictions, returned to her watery home, Derek suggested a hamster. Addison shuddered at the thought of inviting a rodent into their home, and that was how Arturo joined their family, three years ago.

They brought Christa to the animal shelter on 74th Street to pick out a kitten, but their five-year-old was drawn immediately to a cage containing a very large black and white cat with a patch over one eye that made him look like a pirate. A sign on the outside of his case read _Arturo, 5 Years Old._ "He's the same age as me!" Christa beamed, and the shelter workers placed him in her arms. She staggered a little bit – he was no small cat – but he purred and snuggled into her and Christa gazed at him with pure love. "Please, please, please," she begged.

"Don't you want a kitten?" Addison asked helplessly. "This one is older..." She reached out toward the large cat in her daughter's arms, and he hissed at her. She jumped back, stepping on Derek's foot in the process, and was pretty sure she heard him laugh at her. But when he tried to pet the cat, he swiped at him.

"Is he aggressive?" Addison asked nervously. "Not at all," the shelter worker assured them. "He's been here a few years, poor thing." That was that; he came home with them that night. Christa said it would be cruel to change his name after all those years, and so Arturo he remained. He adored his new mistress, followed her around the house, slept faithfully on her bed from the very first night, and – much to Addison's chagrin – begged at the table for scraps. He never did warm up to the older members of the household, hissing at Addison whenever he could get away with it and taking the occasional swipe at Derek. True to her word, Christa fed, watered, played, and brushed in dedicated – perhaps bordering on obsessive – fashion. Their love was mutual and intense; Christa had the only tantrum of her life when Addison suggested – after he took a strip out of the couch – declawing Arturo. The cat was smart, seeming to understand the compromise: he kept his claws and he never once used them on Christa. But he seemed to remember Addison's threat, and would cozy up to her handbags given the chance.

"What do you think Arturo is doing now?" Christa asks, as if she can read her mother's mind. Then again, she asks that several times on any trip.

"Hanging out with Uncle Mark," Derek assures her. "And probably biting him."

Satisfied, Christa nods. "Now can we go see the baby animals? Please?"

"Addie?"

"Of course." Addison sighs. It's hard to say no to that sweet freckled face. At eight years old – eight and a half, Christa would probably correct her – their daughter is one of the taller girls in her class, with reddish-brown hair she hates to have brushed and bright blue eyes that tend to reflect all of her feelings. She was the best kind of surprise. Addison thinks this might be her favorite age – at eight, Christa is independent and curious minded, happy to entertain herself reading or making up stories, but still young enough to hold their hands in public and come to them with her questions. But then again – and she and Derek agree on this – each of Christa's ages has seemed like the best one, so it's pretty hard to decide.

"I'm not sure I have the right clothes to wear," Addison says hopefully.

"Nope, you're fine, I packed some things for you."

Addison glares at her husband. "Thank you, honey," she says with sarcastic emphasis on _honey_ and he grins at her, eyes twinkling.

"It looks muddy out there…"

"We have boots," Derek says helpfully.

They set out from the cabin, Addison unable to maintain her scowl when she sees how happy Christa is. She tucks her arm through Derek's as they weave down the path. The sun is shining, and it smells fresh and clean, like cut grass and … well, after they pass away from the first paddock, it smells wonderfully clean again.

"Let's take a walk and stretch our legs," Derek suggests, "and then we'll see the baby animals on the way back."

Christa, stir-crazy enough from the car to turn cartwheels on the stone path leading out from the welcome sign, agrees immediately. Even Addison is happy to move after the long drive, and grateful that Derek packed the sturdy hiking boots he bought for her last year. They're not exactly her style, but at least they go nicely with her jacket, which is...

...faux-rustic, actually.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" she whispers after she's pretty sure an hour has passed.

"I have a map," Derek reminds her. "We walk on this path, and there should be another paddock up ahead on the right in … I don't know what the scale is on this map. In a while."

Christa is in high heaven, breaking away from them to inspect patches of wildflowers and swing from low-hanging branches whenever she can.

Suddenly, a long, low bellow interrupts the silence.

Addison jumps, grabbing Derek's arm.

"Chris! Come over here."

Their daughter jogs back to their side. "What's wrong? Is it the cow?"

"That was a cow?"

"Yeah, it sounded like one. Do you think it's in trouble?" Christa asks nervously.

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cause the moo kind of sounds that way."

How did she give birth to a child who can identify what emotion a _moo_ is conveying?

"Derek." Addison leans in. "I think we should head back."

"Good idea." He turns the map in his hands, then shakes it out.

"You're kidding me," she mutters, not wanting Christa to hear. "We're lost?"

"We're not lost, Addison, it's a straight path. Two rights, and a left."

"I think it was two lefts, and a right."

There's another moo, and it sounds closer this time.

"Mom, look!" Christa points, and she sees ahead of them, in the clearing, a black and white cow.

A big black and white cow.

They look so much smaller in pictures.

"Don't move," Addison says firmly.

Christa freezes obediently, but turns pleading eyes to her parents. "Can't we please make sure the cow is okay?"

"Honey, I'm sure the cow is fine. We need to head back." Derek gives Addison an uneasy look. "If it's sick, it probably doesn't want people around."

"Derek." Addison touches his arm.

"Come on, sweetie," Derek holds out his hand to Christa. "Let's get out of here.

"Derek," Addison says again.

"We can go feed the baby animals back at the-"

" _Derek!_ "

"What is it, Addie?" he turns to her with surprise.

She points at the cow, specifically at the back end of the cow, where its body is rippling in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze. She may not know much about animals – may not even really like them – but she knows a laboring mother when she sees one and this time, when the moo comes, she hears it for what it is.

"That cow is in labor, Derek, and she's in trouble."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Derek mutters, and the three of them slowly, carefully, approach the cow.

"Stay back," Addison says firmly to Christa. "Derek…"

"I've got her," he says reassuringly, a hand on their daughter's shoulder. "But Addison, that cow probably weighs 1500 pounds, and she's not in a great mood."

"That's not so different from most laboring mothers," she jokes weakly, starting to doubt herself a bit, but when the cow moos again, sounding miserable, she determines to help.

"Addie…"

She turns back.

"Don't be a hero."

She smiles at him. "I'm just going to check out the situation. It's not like I know how to deliver baby cows."

"I do," Christa pipes up.

Addison turns to her daughter, who is leaning against Derek and looking very pleased with herself.

"You do? How?"

"I read about it in the Animal Husbandry book Dad got for me."

Addison glares at her husband. " _Animal husbandry_? Derek!"

"What?" He spreads his hands innocently. "She picked it out herself at Barnes & Noble."

Addison shakes her head. "We can discuss that later. Chris," she fixes her daughter with a stern look. "You need to stay back. I don't want you to get kicked. You can … tell me about cow delivery from back there. Derek…" she gestures _move back._

"I don't want you to get kicked either," Derek protests, but he takes a few steps back in the muddy grass, pulling Christa with him.

"I won't," Addison says warily. "I'm going to stay on this side."

"No, that side," Christa points.

"Right, that's what I meant. Okay." She props her hands on her hips. "I'm gloving up."

"You carry-"

"Of course I carry gloves with me. And no, Derek, that doesn't count as Working on Vacation. Okay, cow ... let's have this baby. I wish I knew the cow's name so I didn't sound so … impersonal."

"Bessie," Christa suggests.

Addison nods approvingly. "A classic. Hey there, Bessie."

The cow makes a loud noise, and Addison takes a step back.

"Look, feet! I mean hooves, hooves!" Christa squeals.

Sure enough, two slick, wet-looking hooves emerge from the back of the cow.

"Shh, don't startle her."

"If she's not startled by feet sticking out of her-"

"Derek, you are _still_ not helping."

"Fine. Let me know if you need a neuro consult."

"The feet – hooves, whatever – are out, so maybe she's not in distress…"

Unfortunately, the next sound makes it clear to her that Bessie is still in distress.

"You tried calling the farm again?" she asks Derek.

"No cell service."

"Because _you_ insisted on being out in the woods. Okay, let me think." And she closes her eyes briefly, hands describing something in the air, and then –

"Christa, you said you know about cow delivery?"

"Yeah."

"So what do you do when–"

"You have to pull the calf out. I saw pictures."

"No way," Addison says, but with a word in between _no_ and _way._

"Mom, that's a bad word!"

"Special circumstances, Chris, sorry. I … have to have to pull this calf out?"

"Yeah, but there were two people in the picture. Can I help?"

"No. This baby might weigh more than you do. And no," she says to Derek, "one of us has to stay back with Christa. I can do it. Well. I'll need leverage." She looks around. They're in the middle of a field, of course. They didn't teach this in medical school. "What was in your picture, Chris?"

"A pipe and some rope and like a board thing with a wheel."

They're in a field with … nothing around them, unless wildflowers count.

Addison thinks for a moment. "Derek," she seizes on an idea, "take off your belt."

"What are you going to do with my belt?"

Addison pushes her sleeves up further and speaks with confidence: "I'm going to deliver this baby."

She loops the belt around the hooves sticking out of the back of the cow. Bessie, none too thrilled, pulls away, clomping in a circle and mooing. Addison jumps back just in time.

"Addie, be careful!"

"I am, I am." She exhales sharply, not wanting to let on how much that startled her.

"Maybe we should all just walk back to the farm and get help," Derek suggests.

"That's at least an hour. I can't leave a mother in active labor."

"She's not a mother, she's a cow."

"Dad, if the calf doesn't come out, she'll die." Christa's eyes are wide.

"You had to buy her that book," Addison shakes her head at her husband. "Okay, we're in this too deep to stop now. Everyone, back up."

She pulls on the belt again, this time prepared to walk with the protesting cow. More of the calf's legs appear.

Christa claps.

"What's supposed to happen next?" Addison asks, chancing a quick glance at her daughter without taking too much attention off Bessie.

"The calf's head comes out next."

"Oh, right. Four legs for this kind of baby." Addison pulls again and the cow bellows, moving away more sharply this time.

"I think," and it's more than thinking because she has a pretty clear view, one that she might not be able to wash out of her memory without great effort, "I think the head is stuck. Damn it."

"What are you going to do?" Christa asks anxiously. "Mom? Can you help her?"

"I'm going to try."

"Addison, don't do anything crazy," Derek warns.

"Crazier than what I've already done?"

"Fair point. Just – be careful."

She grimaces. This is going to be – interesting, no matter how careful she is. But she did take an oath. Bessie shifts as she approaches the calf and Addison curses again, then, praying that she'll get her arm back in one piece, reaches inside the cow to free the calf's head.

There's a moment of chaos where she's very, very grateful she's not a vet, and Bessie bellows angrily, and Christa makes a panicked little cry and Derek says _Addison_ , but then she's directing the skull and she's pulling on the belt again and with a great rush of a fluid and flesh, the head slides out.

"You did it!" Christa squeals.

"I did it," Addison pants, realizing

"How much does a calf weigh at birth?" Derek asks Christa.

"About sixty-five pounds, I think," Christa says, "how come?"

"That's more than you weigh," Derek answers. "Addie – you'd better not try to catch this one."

"Right." She hadn't actually thought of that.

She bends her knees, pulling on the belt again, and manages to brace both herself and the calf by grabbing the tied-together hooves and pulling the rest of the calf out of the yawning cavity.

A wet looking pile of black and white, slick with fluids no one wants to think about, crumples to the ground. Addison unties the front hooves quickly.

"Is she okay?" Christa is straining at Derek's grip on her shoulders. "Is she breathing?"

"Just give it a minute." Addison crouches next to the calf, swipes the area around its nose clean. "Come on, breathe. Breathe, um …" she glances at Christa, namer of all animals.

"Daisy," Christa prompts.

"…Daisy. Breathe, Daisy. Come on, you can do this, Daisy. Breathe," Addison pries the calf's mouth open to clear the airway.

Nothing.

"Mom, you have to help her!"

"I'm trying, honey."

Addison turns back to the calf, who looks – depleted, a little pile of cow on the ground. After all that …

" _Daisy_ ," she says sharply in her most no-nonsense voice. "I didn't ruin a two thousand dollar jacket with cow filth for nothing, so breathe, right now!" She pushes abruptly on the calf's midsection, frustrated, and…

And then the calf makes a weak little _moo._

"She's alive!" Christa jumps up and down in the mud, wellies squelching.

"She's alive." Addison exhales heavily, using the back of her filthy jacket to swipe filthy hair out of her eyes, and pushes off from the ground as Bessie starts to inspect her calf.

"Wow, look, Bessie is licking Daisy clean!"

"I wish someone would clean _me_ off." Addison's perspiring, hair frizzing around her rosy cheeks. She peels off her gloves and balls them up. From forearm to fingertip, where the gloves covered her, she looks normal, but the rest of her is covered in fluids - and some unspeakable solids - without any protection from scrubs. And that's not to mention the mud spattering all her clothes from Bessie's stomping.

"Daisy's okay?" Christa is peering around Derek's arm anxiously.

"He's okay," Addison says. "Daisy's a him. Naturally, since he caused all these problems."

"Mom, you did it," Christa beams at her. "You're the best doctor in the whole world!"

Before she can contemplate that, she hears a welcome sound. They're not alone anymore.

"Look! The farmer's coming." Christa points to the approaching tractor.

"Thank god." Addison sighs. "Chris, let's – wait a minute, Derek, what are you doing with that phone…"

"Nothing."

"If I find a single image of me with cow …" she glances down at Christa "…stuff on me, I will not be happy."

Farmer Jack is suitably impressed as he pulls the tractor around. "Normally we tell guests not to go near an animal that's alone, and especially one in labor…"

"My mom delivers babies all the time," Christa informs him.

"But this was her first calf," Derek adds.

"You're a natural, then, and we're lucky to have you. You saved both their lives."

"You knew she was out here?"

"We weren't sure where she went off to. Sometimes a cow'll go off to find privacy when it's going to be a difficult delivery. We thought for sure we'd lose both of them. I can't thank you enough," he says.

"My assistant was very helpful, thanks to her Animal Husbandry book," Addison says, smiling at Christa.

"I want to be a vet," Christa tells Farmer Jack.

"This is a great start, then. All right, can I give you folks a ride back? I'll send our vet out to check on these two."

Addison, whose muscles are shaking, likes that idea. "Are there, um, seats on that thing?" She looks uncertainly at the tractor. It's a ... well, it's a giant yellow tractor and it doesn't exactly seem passenger friendly. Other than the high seat for the driver, she doesn't see anything except a giant bale of hay strapped to the back.

Farmer Jack laughs. "You can ride on the hay bale. I'll take it back to the paddock afterwards."

"Yes, please!" Christa says happily.

"I don't know." Addison glances at Derek.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe, my kids ride there all the time." He lifts Christa onto the hay bale, then offers Addison a hand. "You'll meet them a little later, when we feed the lambs," and Christa beams.

That's how they end up riding back to the farm, Christa sitting between her parents on the hay bale, eyes closed with ecstasy as the fresh air whips her hair around. "I _love_ this place," she breathes.

Even Addison can admit the breeze is nice, although the mud drying on her skin is starting to crack in the sun and she's maintaining a death grip with both hands on the twine holding the hay bales together. Derek, to his credit, has one arm around Christa to hold her in place and only one hand clutching at the bale.

Christa begs to help Farmer Jack and his daughter feed the horses next, so after she and Derek trudge back to the cabin, Addison peels off her filthy outer layers to leave on the porch.

"You were amazing." Derek leans in for a kiss in the entryway.

"You don't want to touch me right now. I need a shower. Or ten."

"Oh, but I do. It was really sexy, actually."

"You have a sickness." But she laughs and kisses him back.

"Mm." He deepens the kiss, then pulls back. "Oh, Addie, you know you lost the bet, right? First one to do work on vacation…"

"That is _not_ work!"

"You delivered a baby."

"I delivered a _cow._ "

"You delivered a baby cow."

"I delivered a baby cow _outdoors_ , in nature, thanks to you, the nature lover, so I definitely don't lose the bet."

"You-"

"Stop arguing with me, and you can help me wash off the delivery," Addison proposes, and they make tracks through the cabin. When she finds out the walk-in shower in their en suite has eight separate jets and a massage feature, she decides farming isn't so terrible, and makes sure to express her gratitude to her husband for choosing this spot ... twice.

Showered and free from all cow-related filth, they join Christa and her new best friend to meet the admittedly rather adorable baby lambs. All three Shepherds are starving by evening, and they're met in the dining room with a round of applause and an on-the-house dinner that even Addison can admit is delicious.

"Who's the hero now?" Derek asks, nudging her with his elbow.

"Shut up," she says, blushing, and reminds Christa to eat her (impeccably cooked, freshly farmed) vegetables.

 **..**

"…and that's when my mom said a really bad word and then stuck her whole entire arm into the cow's-"

"Okay, you can stop there, Chris," Addison says hurriedly. "I think we definitely get the idea. It's a very … well written… essay, sweetheart. Thank you for reading it to us."

Christa beams from her position on the carpet; she's dressed for bed in green pajamas with yellow cats printed all over them. Her hair could use a brushing but she is, without a doubt, the cutest thing Addison has ever seen.

"It's called 'My Vacation' and Ms. Asbury says you're supposed to be 'colorful' and tell a story from beginning to end and stuff and I got an A-." She smiles sheepishly, looking just like her father for a moment. "She said it was creative. The minus was for spelling amniotic fluid wrong because I put a k at the end."

"At the end of amniotic, or the end of fluid – ow," Derek rubs his arm where Addison's elbow hit. She tucks her legs up under her on the couch.

"That's a hard word, honey. But … yeah, I think I understand now why your teacher wants to meet with us."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Definitely not," Derek assures her. "We might be, though," he mutters to Addison.

Addison checks the time. "Chris, go on up and get into bed, honey, and you can read for half an hour. I'll come up to say goodnight." And to turn the light out, since Christa would read all night if they let her.

"Forty-five minutes," Christa barters, giving each parent a kiss goodnight.

"How about twenty?"

"Okay, I'll take thirty."

"Good choice." Addison pauses just for a moment to remind herself that this … person, this tall, writing, reading, bartering, animal-loving _person_ , is their baby.

"Hang on, sweetie," Derek reaches out, "can I keep that essay?"

"Sure." Christa hands it over and then scoops up Arturo, who has been watching the three of them suspiciously from his perch at the top of the loveseat, and pads up the stairs.

When her footfalls have disappeared, Derek turns to Addison, grinning.

"That's going to be a fun parent-teacher conference."

Addison purses her lips. "We'll just tell Ms. Asbury that Christa has a very vivid imagination."

"Don't you mean a vivid vocabulary? I mean, it actually happened just like-"

"Is that _never talking about it again_?" Addison hisses, interrupting him.

"You know what I think? I think she needs a sibling. It will help her … imagination."

"I bet you do."

"And I promise, no more animal husbandry."

"I'm more concerned about regular husbandry right now - hey, stop that, she's not asleep yet!"

"Okay, let's make a deal." He leans back on the couch, pulling her with him, and she rests her head against his shoulder. "How about … I get you pregnant, and you can pick the next vacation?"

"It's already my turn to pick the next vacation," she reminds him.

"Okay, you can pick the next vacation _and_ I won't complain about it. As long as it's not a spa."

"Oh, it's definitely going to be a spa."

"As long as it's not a spa that waxes without warning."

"That was one time! And you know we're not welcome there again."

"I also know she's not moving from her room until her half hour of reading time is up."

"Fine," she pulls away and smirks at him. "But you have to stop mooing at me."

His eyes are twinkling. "I'm sorry, it's just that ever since I saw you communing with that cow, it keeps slipping out."

He only moos one more time – but he more than makes up for it.

* * *

 _I love reviews like Addison and Derek love that place with the boat (no, not that place, the other place). Like it? Hate it? Leave me a review and let me know if you think this lover of angst can actually pull off fluff ..._


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